Yep... good old summer poetry. Enjoy?
I was never the master of my convulsions
Flinch of the eye, tick in my neck
Punctuates my lust, not a period
But an exclamation point
And a prompt for my swelling heart.
Poise a dart at my bulbous eye
Take care in your aim, they travel quicker
Than any intangible thought, all over your body
Never your eye, where I think I really could seize
Drag me into your pool where I cannot pulsate-
I might shatter this thing so many times
It cannot bear up and cross the floor
Buckles at the knees. A fingernail in the basement
An elbow in the kitchen, scattered
Like grandfather’s ashes in Tasso’s selfish gut.